


Everyday People

by liljuicebox



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Murder, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liljuicebox/pseuds/liljuicebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a girl is murdered under suspicious circumstances, Veronica once more finds herself caught up in an investigation. Takes place 175 days after the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally getting around to posting this on here, originally posted on FF.net

**Chapter One**

Only five more days, Veronica smiled to herself, tracing the small red circle on the calendar with the tip of a finger. It’d been a hundred and seventy five days exactly since, Logan, her boyfriend had left for deployment, and in a hundred and twenty hours they would be reunited. Not that she was counting.

Veronica shrugged into her jacket, grabbing her bag from where she had dropped it the night before. While sitting and pining away was inviting, it wasn’t something she could allow. Before she could look at the wall hanging once more, she exited her room. Five more days, what’s five days to us?

She moved with purpose through the kitchen of the small bungalow, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter; immediately digging her teeth into it. Ever since Keith had been approved to go back to working cases, he’d been beating her to the office every morning, going in early and leaving late, like he had something to prove to her, to himself.

His car accident, which had happened weeks before Logan’s departure, was still fresh in her mind. The images of her father crumpled and broken, bleeding out on the sidewalk, left a sour taste in her mouth. Jerry Sachs, the reason he’d been in the car in the first place, was pronounced DOA and there was the ever present reminder that, that could’ve been Keith. That could’ve been her father. She had insisted he take it easy, or in the least let her take on some of the more risky cases. Veronica knew what she was asking him to do was impossible, something she herself had been incapable of. But deep down, she wished he could let it go, retire and move on to greener pastures. Take up golfing or boating, anything to keep him safe.

And leave good ole Neptune behind? Come on Veronica, you yourself couldn’t do it, what makes you think he could?

It was their higher purpose in life, a calling they’d never been able to ignore. She’d tried, for years she’d tried, moved across the country in search of a normal happy life. Putting herself in situations and relationships that were by the book, safe. But normal didn’t suit her, so why would it work for the man who had taught her everything she knew, helped shape the very essence of who she was.

The drive to Mars Investigations was a short one, cutting through the grimey downtown streets and into the commercial districts. She parked Logan’s BMW alongside the curb, clicking the button locking it. This was not the MI she had worked at as a teen in high school, but she had grown to love the brick building that now housed what could be defined as her second home.

Mac, one of her best friends and their unofficial tech analyst, didn’t look up immediately when she came in, hidden behind one of the many monitors covering her desk, fingers flying over keys. There had been an influx of cases following Hayley Dewalt’s murder and the Aurora Scott scandal, but in the last few weeks their cases had slowed to a trickle. A few cheating spouses, some bail jumpers, nothing particularly exciting or dangerous, more monotonous and mundane than anything.

“Howdy ho.” Veronica said, noticing the door to the small office she and Keith shared was closed. She flopped onto the couch across from the front desk, motioning towards the door with her thumb.

“He in with a client?” Mac nodded, looking up for the first time.

“Sort of,” she tittered. Sort of?

Veronica had opened her mouth to respond when the door opened, a tall girl with long brown hair and striking green eyes exiting the room, Keith following suit. He smiled at his daughter, but it was brief and his gaze quickly flickered away.

What are you hiding?

“Thanks Miss Cole, we’ll have Mac here call you soon, when we’ve made our decision.” He moved stiffly to the desk, handing Mac a manila folder, speaking quietly to her. Veronica moved forward hoping to catch the tail end of the conversation.

The girl, Miss Cole, turned smiling brightly, it seemed to touch every part of her. Was this girl a client? She seemed awfully happy for someone who was receiving threats or suspected their significant other of cheating.

“You’re Veronica Mars.”

Veronica looked to the side at Keith and Mac, who were both conveniently busy with other things.

“That’s what they tell me.”

“I’m Jessie Cole.” She thrust a heavily ringed hand forward, Veronica complied quickly shaking it, before letting her own hand fall back down to her side.

“I’ve heard and read so much about you in the Newspapers and people still talk about you at Hearst.”

Great.

So she was a college student, it still didn’t explain why she was here. Jessie continued gushing, seemingly not noticing that Veronica’s thoughts were far away. Dissecting her on a deeper plane.

“and when I found out that I might be able to work with you. Oh my gosh, I freaked.”

Hold the phones, what? That snapped her back to attention very quickly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Hey honey,”

Lucy you have some ‘splaining to do.

Keith moved past Jessie to stand beside Veronica, placing a hand on her shoulder, he smiled at both girls, obviously trying to defuse the ticking time bomb he knew was coming.

“I see you’ve met Miss Cole here.”

“You see correctly.” There was venom to her tone hidden under a carefully placed playful facade, and everyone in the room knew it was there. Everyone, except for maybe Jessie, but by her expression, Veronica could see that she was catching on. Her smile faltered and her once cheery disposition darkened, just a bit. She played awkwardly with the hem of her shirt, but she never broke eye contact.

“Miss Cole,” Keith continued ignoring Veronica’s vehemence and Jessie’s sudden shyness, “was just interviewing for an internship here at Mars Investigations, exciting, huh?”

She redirected the burn of her stare right at her father.

“Intern? I wasn’t aware we were interviewing interns.”

He didn’t even miss a beat.

“Yep, and Miss Cole here, has an incredibly exceptional resume.”

And just like that she snapped to attention, the bright confidence from before slinking back into her demeanor. Jessie beamed at Keith, obviously flattered by his approval.

“Incredibly exceptional, isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?” Veronica tilted her head in a display of false innocence, something she had done since she was child.

Behind her computers, Mac looked green her eyes flitting around the scene and towards the exits, like she was debating which would be the best escape route. Keith clapped his hands together,

“ANYWAYS,” his tone was full of false cheer, and meant to ease the pot that was clearly on the verge of overflowing. “Miss Cole, it was a pleasure and we can’t wait to see you again,” He stepped away from Veronica, placing a gentle hand on the girl’s elbow, shuffling her towards the door with a kind insistence.

Jessie nodded a few times waving to the room and quietly thanking Keith for his time and they all stood in silence watching her open and walk through the office door, closing it behind her as she departed. Veronica wasted no time, before spinning around and confronting the room.

“An intern? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Some of the color had crept back into Mac’s cheeks and she looked up smiling guiltily,  
“Don’t look at me,” she countered pointing at the older man, “this was all him, I just pointed them to the office.”

“Thank you, Cindy.”

Keith sunk down onto the overly squishy couch, his forefingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a long over exasperated sigh.

“Veronica, lots of detective agencies have interns, they file paperwork, get coffee, take phone calls. Maybe you’re familiar with the job description?”

Oh, so that’s what interns did.

“And here I remember my time at Mars Investigations so differently.” Keith’s expression grew cold.

“This isn’t up to you Veronica, we could always use a little extra help around here, free up our hands for cases,” as if to better illustrate this he held up both hands wiggling his fingers animatedly, “and Jessie, or any of the other girls I interviewed today, would be great candidates for that job.”

She groaned loudly.

“It’s not like we’re swimming in cases here, Dad. She’s going to get bored.”

“Don’t sell yourself short honey, life with you is never boring.” He paused looking up at her with an expression she knew all too well, there was no arguing this, the decision had been made and she was just going to have to live with it. That didn’t mean she had to enjoy it, though.

“Mac give me the Jones’s file, I think I need a little fresh air.”

“Which Jones? We have three right now.”

This wasn’t Mac’s fault, she had been an accessory after the fact, so she tried her best to not take her anger at her father out on her.

“I’ll get it” she mumbled, moving to the large stack of overflowing filing cabinets. She rifled through the mess for a bit before a long, frustrated cry erupted from the base of her throat. Veronica tried her best to ignore her father who was practically beaming from the couch.

“I wonder what would make this so much easier…” He mused, she halted her work briefly, sending mental daggers his way.

“Here it is!” Mac held up the folder from behind her desk, “Marta Jones, right?”

“That’s the one.” Veronica sighed taking the slim folder, “Thank you, Mac.” She nodded warmly towards her friend, “Dad.”

And with no further conversation, she grabbed her bag from the couch, heading out the door. She didn’t look back, but as the glass door fell closed, she could hear Keith’s low chuckle from the hall.

_______________

It wasn’t so much the prospect of the potential intern that frustrated her, she didn’t like it, but her dad had a good point. It was more that he had moved forward without talking to her first. Months ago, they had agreed to be partners, that they would run Mars Investigations together, and part of that included making decisions such as who picked up the take out for lunch, or whether or not they needed an intern to make sense of their nightmare of a filing system. Up until that point, Keith had been doing most of the filing and phone answering, doctor’s orders, but since the recent approval of him returning to cases, well, things had become a mess.

What is it you hate more, Veronica, the fact that he’s hired someone to clean up this train wreck or that he’s in the danger zone again.

For the second time that day, she replayed the scene of her father’s accident in her mind. Shivering as she recalled the broken glass that littered the street and the blood, her father’s blood, covering both her and Logan’s hands as they waited for the ambulance to get there. It hadn’t taken them more than five minutes, but it felt like a lifetime for Veronica.

She lifted the camera to her face, glad for the distraction that a case provided. As a teenager, young and volatile, she would throw herself into her work; it providing the necessary distractions for her to forget, at least for a little while, how broken things were around her. Life had looked up considerably in the last few years, but she still found comfort in losing herself in an investigation.

There wasn’t much to this one though, just the typical adultery case. Wife had come in swearing her husband was cheating, the standard late nights and unfamiliar perfume, and given a list of addresses where they could find him. Veronica had been tailing him all day, but had come up with nothing. She was parked outside of what his wife had said was his final stop, camera at the ready just in case. Mr. Jones, a big wig accountant, had gone into the Neptune Grand, Neptune’s biggest and nicest hotel, for a supposed dinner appointment but that had been four hours ago. She leaned back in her seat, shifting a bit to get more comfortable. From her bag she took out her phone, going straight to her email. It pinged a few times. The most recent one was from her father.

To: veronicamars@minvestigations.com  
From: keithmars@minvestigations.com  
Subject: interns  
Here are the resumes for the three girls I interviewed this morning, maybe give them a look over and get back to me.  
-Dad

Now he was involving her. At the bottom were three attached word documents, each with a name, Jessie’s was the last one and by the looks of it the biggest file size. She scrolled back to the main email page moving through the other unread messages, if he asked her about it later, she would claim she’d been busy with the case and hadn’t had the time.

She sifted through junk mail and then finally with a sigh of relief at the bottom there was a single unread email from Logan.

To: veronicamars@minvestigations.com  
From: l.echolls@navy.mil  
Subject: what are you wearing?

She laughed, almost painfully.

The ever present ache of missing him enveloped her like a wave as she read his email; it was a late response to one she’d sent earlier in the week.

Sorry I’m just getting back to you, just returned from a mission. I have to take you flying someday, it’s unlike anything you could ever imagine. Be patient, people get screwed over all the time, I’m sure Mars Investigations case load will pick up soon. Who knows, I’m due to be framed again for murder, right? Speaking of.. five days. -Logan

She set her phone down on the seat beside her, leaving Logan’s email open. When she turned her eyes to the Neptune Grand’s front entrance, a man with a curly blonde in a tight red dress was just exiting, stumbling and laughing.

“Got ya.”

When she finally made it home, the sky was a thick, inky black with the late hour. She’d taken her time transferring the snapshots of Mr. Jones, to her computer. Sifting through and finding the best ones to present to Mrs. Jones in the morning. If this was the end game of all marriages, why even get married? It seemed to her all it was, was a constant race of who could come out on top, who could get more at the end, who could hurt the other the most. She tried to suppress these bitter feelings as she staggered into the house. Her father was asleep on the couch, the tv still on in the background. He had a habit of doing this lately - waiting up for her - there was a soft pang in her chest, all the previous anger dissipating.

She flopped down beside him, with the intention of waking him up so they could both head to their own beds, but she never made it that far. The couch was soft and her eyes were heavy and before she knew it she was fast asleep.

Veronica woke up disoriented and stiff just as the morning sun began creeping through the large living room windows. She groaned, struggling to remember how exactly she’d ended up on the couch, fully dressed and not in her bed. Dad. She looked to her side, expecting to see him, still fast asleep beside her. But the rustling in the kitchen suggested otherwise. She pushed herself away from the cushions, stretching her arms lazily, contemplating if she had enough time to sneak back to her room for a few more hours of sleep before her meeting, when something caught her eye.

In the corner of the room her father’s television was turned on the news playing silently, a woman with overly hair sprayed hair and big rosy cheeks talked animatedly to the camera. At the bottom of the screen in bold white letters, the words NANNY FOUND DEAD IN EMPLOYERS HOME - 7 YEAR OLD BOY MISSING circulated the bottom of the screen. Before she could think twice, Veronica was on her feet, scrambling for the remote and cranking the volume up.

She caught the tail end of the woman speaking. The pictures on the screen faded to a helicopter view of a tiny house in one of Neptune’s middle class neighborhood’s. Police could be seen below, moving around like ants.

At six am this morning, the local sheriff’s department arrived on scene after a call to 911 was made, by Annie Baxter, homeowner and employer. The deceased has been identified as Casey Cole, 19 year old college student.

“What are you watching?” Keith asked pleasantly, stepping into the room a mug in his hands.

“Shhhhh!” Veronica held up a hand eyes focused on the screen. He chuckled, but then quickly fell silent as the newscaster continued. He shuffled over to the couch, reclaiming his spot next to his daughter. They listened in quiet horror, as the report vaguely detailed how Annie Baxter an NICU nurse at Neptune General returned home not only to find her nanny with a bullet in the head among other injuries, but her 7 year old son missing.

“The police have not yet ruled out suicide, but word from the Sherriff’s department is there will be a press conference later this afternoon addressing Casey Cole’s murder and the disappearance of Adrian Baxter.”

Of course there would be. Veronica snorted in indignation. Lamb exploiting tragedy for fifteen minutes in the spotlight? Sounded right.

“And on that note, at this time the families ask for their privacy and if anyone has any information as to the whereabouts of Adrian Baxter to please come forward. Casey Cole is survived by her Mother, whom we will be speaking to later this evening, and her sister Jessie Cole.”

Veronica almost fell of the couch, and when she looked over at her father she was sure his shocked expression was a mirror to her own. It couldn’t be the same Jessie Cole could it, how many Jessie Cole’s were in Neptune? But, as the news broadcast continued and pictures of the late Casey Cole crowded the screen, there was no doubt in her mind the girls were related. They were both tall and lean, with the same dark hair, except Casey’s was maybe a little lighter and cropped short, in her photos. If Veronica hadn’t felt uneasy before, she definitely did now.

“Well, shit.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just started using Archive of Our Own so please be patient with me as I figure out formatting.

**Chapter Two**

After the news broadcast finished, falling back to sleep was a definite no; she was wired. Veronica's mind kept rerunning the footage, remembering the pictures of the once happy girl, trying and failing to convince herself to leave it alone. She'd done it for nine years, she could do it now. This case, _No_ , she thought, _don't call it that_. Whatever this was, something didn't sit right with Veronica and even though the details were sketchy at best, somewhere, somehow it intrigued her, and nothing good ever came from intrigue.

_Actually a lot of good has come from it, just think about all the scum bags you've put behind bars. What's one more?_ A voice reasoned in the back of her head. What's one more? wasn't that her unofficial motto these days?

She tried to push all of it out of her thoughts as she showered and got ready for the appointment with Mrs. Jones, she focused on happier things.

_Logan_. Four more days now and she'd have him back.

See, she reasoned, you won't have time to work a big case like this, you will have way more important things to do. She smiled, but the happiness and the distraction were fleeting. Casey Cole haunted her thoughts as she quickly grabbed breakfast and headed out for the office. It was so distracting that she almost tripped over Jessie Cole, who was sitting on the front step of Mars Investigations, styrofoam coffee cup in hand.

She set the cup on the stoop, looking up at Veronica her eyes were red rimmed, puffy, and by her messy hair and wrinkled clothes, it was clear she'd left the house in a hurry. They were both silent for what seemed like an incredibly long time. Jessie looked away after awhile, before taking a deep breath, pushing herself up from the concrete.

"Veronica," her voice was shaky and desperate, "please I need your help, my sister…"

Veronica gripped the keys to Logan's BMW tightly in her hand, as if they were the last little bit of her resolve. Logan, think of Logan, four days.

"My mom told me not to come here today, said that we didn't need a 'private detective'," she frowned her eyes drifting from one brick building to another, never settling, "said 'Whatever the Sheriff thinks is good enough for me.' but you know as well as I do, he's an idiot." Veronica remained silent.

"I just talked to Casey, just talked to her. She was complaining about the boys she nannies." She was speaking faster, her tone nearing hysteria.

_Boys, hadn't the news just mentioned one missing boy?_ Veronica's mind instantly was running through possible scenarios. Scenarios that the sheriff's department wouldn't consider in a million years.

NOPE. She stomped on her mental breaks, Easy girl, this probably doesn't mean anything.

"I know I don't know you, and that you don't want me as the Mars Investigations intern, but I can pay you… I swear, my boyfriend's he's…" she trailed off, "he offered to pay, and he's good for it. I can pay anything you want, name the price. I just, Casey deserves justice.. I -"

_Justice_. There was that word. Wasn't that her favorite word? Her unofficial call in life. Hadn't she spent a good portion of her teenage years bringing justice to those who couldn't or wouldn't go and get it for themselves?

_Veronica Mars, the lead Marshmallow, defender of the weak and the innocent._ In fact, wasn't that her main prerogative in returning to Neptune. Justice?

From her messenger bag, Jessie haphazardly was pulling out a manila folder, papers could be seen peeking up from the edges threatening to slip out onto the concrete. She held it gingerly in her hands, as if it was something precious, before thrusting it towards Veronica.

"Here's everything I could think of off the top of my head. In there are recent photos, the places she's worked in the last year, guys she was," she hesitated, "serious with. Some school records."

Veronica's movements were irresolute as she took the folder, placing it under her arm. Hadn't Casey's death been called in earlier that morning?. For the first time, she looked at Jessie, really looked at her. The confidant, bubbly girl from the day before was gone. Her face had been bright and made up, clothes stylish and colorful. She had been replaced with a raw, scared child, dark circles were forming around her eyes and messy hair framed her face. As for her clothes, it was clear she hadn't changed from what she'd been sleeping in the night before. Who knows how long she'd been waiting on those steps for Veronica to finally make it into the office.

"Go home, Jessie." Veronica struggled to make her tone soft, compassionate. She stepped past her then, fiddling with her keys for the one to unlock the front door. She avoided eye contact, knowing exactly what she'd see, and when she did look up it felt like a punch, right to the gut. Jessie's expression was shattered, her thin emotional walls obviously caving down around her. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but they never came, at least not while Veronica was standing there.

Jessie silently adjusted her bag on her shoulder, pulling the sleeves of her shirt to cover her hands. She looked up at Veronica once more, opening her mouth to say something, but then closed it immediately after. In an instant, her resolve changed from a sad, broken thing to someone with a new-found, fierce determination. Without so much as another word, she turned, stalking off along the sidewalk. Something inside of Veronica leapt, but she shoved it back down. She glanced at the folder she now held in her hands, in big block sharpie letters Casey Anna Cole had been written on the front. She wanted to open it, see what puzzle lay inside for her, but just as her fingers grazed the top, a bright, red Mercedes parked crookedly alongside the curb.

* * *

 

"Mrs. Jones," Veronica tried to keep the timbre of her voice calm, neutral, it was barely eleven thirty, and she was already ready to crawl back into bed and forget the day, "you came to Mars Investigations to find out if your husband was cheating, and well," she gestured to the picture of Mr. Jones's hands dangerously high on the blondes legs. Mrs. Jones let out a loud shrill cry, flinging herself forward on Veronica's desk. Her back heaving with horrible sobs.

In the hour and half that Mrs. Jones had been there they had gone over the details of her husband's not so secret affair at least five times, each time eliciting an equally more horrifying response from his wife. This was one of Veronica's least favorite part of the job, you catch the husband with his pants down,shattering a seemingly 'happy marriage' and then you have to pick up the pieces when they're scattered all over your office floor, all simultaneously while trying to still get paid. She rolled her eyes standing up from the desk, grabbing a small box of tissues from the bookshelf in the corner. She took the chair next to Mrs. Jones, handing her the Kleenex.

Turns out Mrs. Jones, who had come to Veronica with the initial suspicion that her husband had been cheating, actually hadn't really believed he'd been 'capable' of it. When the news and pictures of her husband, all but having intercourse on the front steps of the Neptune Grand, made it into her perfectly manicured fingers, the first time, she just stared at them, blinking and confused.

"We just got married." was her excuse, and Veronica felt sorry for her, but that had been an hour and a half ago and her patience was waning.

"B-but it was a business meeting."

_Well,some sort of negotiation had been going on._

Her bottom lip trembled and she began dabbing ferociously at her eyes again, obviously trying to prevent her make-up from streaking. Veronica didn't have the heart to tell her the time for that had already come and gone.

"Mrs. Jones, is there anything else we can help you with? If not we're-" Veronica didn't get to finish though, as the woman briskly stood, almost clipping her in the face with her elbow.

"No, that's all, I think." She looked at the photos in her hand one more time, a new wave of hysterics coming on, "I'm going to go home and…" her voice trailed off, "I'll send a check your way later this week, thank you." and with that she flipped her mousy brown hair over her shoulder, quickly corrected her skirt, and then exited the room, stumbling a bit in the doorway.

Veronica watched her until she was gone and then sunk into the chair. Fingers bracing the bridge of her nose, she groaned loudly.

"Didn't take it well?" Mac chimed from the other room, humor coloring her tone.

"What gave it away, was it the running into doorways, or the fact that she was in here for two hours crying on my paperwork?"

Mac's return chuckle was light and bell-like. Her fingers could be heard clicking away on her keys.

"Hey, Mac, did you see the news this morning?" she played at being nonchalant, relaxed.

Throughout the course of her meeting with Mrs. Jones, she'd struggled to keep her focus on the case at hand; her eyes continued to wander to the file Jessie had given her not long before, her fingers itching to lift the cover and see what information lay inside. She'd been craving a good puzzle. While bail jumpers and adultery cases paid the bills, they were mundane tasks, like cleaning a toilet and she longed for something just a bit more complicated.

"No, should I have?"

Veronica didn't answer, she looked at the folder on her desk, it was less of a decision and more a knee jerk reaction; giving into the dry craving at the back of her throat. She scooped up the file, her keys and her bag heading out into the waiting room. Mac's eyes followed her in confusion.

"Whoa, where are you running off to?"

"Going to pick up lunch, run a few errands. If you want something, just text me."

And that's how it started. Veronica wasn't quite sure how she ended up parked down the street from Annie Baxter's small house in the 02 zip code, but she had. While most of the excitement had died down from earlier that morning, there was still a police cruiser parked out front and a news van close by. From what she had caught on the radio and the few articles she'd looked up on her phone, the main focus was on Adrian Baxter, the missing boy.

There was a hesitance to all of Veronica's actions, and she made it very clear to herself, she was just there as a concerned citizen.

_Right, because all 'concerned citizens' camp out down the street to get a better feel of a crime scene._

What could she say, some people brought flowers, other's solved mysteries; it was just the hand she'd been dealt.

From the passenger seat beside her, she grabbed Jessie's folder. When she lifted the front, there was a short letter written on a piece of purple stationery paper, a four by six photograph paper clipped behind it.

_Veronica,_

_This isn't a lot, just what I could think of off the top of my head. I attached a recent photo of Casey, the ones my mom is sending to the news are at least a few years old and maybe by showing you this you'll understand. I'm not going to leave this alone, I can't. -Jessie_

With careful fingers, Veronica lifted and inspected the photo. The time stamp in the corner said it was only a few weeks old; Casey's arms slung around Jessie's thin shoulders as the ocean crashed in around them, her head thrown back in laughter. In a box somewhere, she had an almost identical photo.

Casey Cole was no Lilly Kane, not even in the same league. The only similarities being they were both young and both dead. But, Lilly had been the closest thing to a sister Veronica had had and as she looked at the picture of these innocent girls, she felt sorry for Jessie. She knew the loss all too well.

She moaned, shutting the folder and practically throwing it across the car.

Time passed quickly as she continued to fight herself, what had started out as a short stop on the way to get lunch gradually turned into an all afternoon stake-out. She was struggling back and forth like the waves in the ocean.

She noted that the house appeared to be in good condition; all the windows and doors out front intact; _no forced entry_. She wished she could get around to the back and take a look, but it was a risky move with a squad car out front. She'd just have to come back in a few days.

_No, in a few days you'll be with Logan._

She didn't know why exactly she was hesitating, just that she was. She assumed it was a combination of things. While she initially didn't like Jessie, it was more of a subtle indifference, what she hated was more the lack of communication on her father's part, than Jessie herself.

Then, there was Logan of course. Logan had been a constant resident in her thoughts since the moment he'd shipped out, but the day came and went and he was barely a flicker to the flame that was raging inside her head. As she finally pulled the BMW away from the curb, heading towards the grocery store and then home, she knew she was losing the battle.

From her time at the store all the way back home to chopping vegetables for a salad on her father's kitchen counter, Veronica's thoughts volleyed back and forth. Narrowing down the pros and cons of each situation. Spend time with Logan vs. Finding a killer.

They could leave, she reasoned, go on vacation, take a few weeks until all of this blew over. But who was she kidding, really? Logan was a good distraction, an excellent one, but nothing would be able to pull her away once she sunk her teeth into something.

When the familiar Skype call came later that evening, ringing through her room, Veronica didn't even say hello, she got right to business, before she could change her mind.

"So I was thinking when you get back in four days," she grinned widely, "we stay in Neptune a few nights, give you a chance to sleep in a good bed and then we go on vacation! My dad can take the case load for a week or two."

_Running again, Veronica? How very teenage of you_. She quickly batted the thought away.

"About those four days…" His voice was echo-y and metallic, like they were talking through tin cans and string. He looked up at the screen sadly, his brown eyes not quite meeting hers.

"No. NO, the government and I had an agreement, they get you for a hundred and eighty days and then I get you. I believe there's a contract somewhere, possibly signed in blood?" It was supposed to come out lighthearted, quippy, but instead it carried the weight of the days thoughts, the struggle of not giving in.

"Veronica," his voice was soft and raw, he kneaded his forehead with his slender fingers, "this time it'snot the government's fault. There are severe storm warnings," he paused, correcting himself before he slipped his location, "where we are, and we're landside for a few days, waiting for the storm to clear up. Who knows, we might be back on schedule, I'm just supposed to give you a heads up. Communications could be spotty coming up here." He smiled then, her heart ached for him to be home.

"So, how many days do they think it'll actually take for the storm to clear?"

Logan visibly grimaced, telling her this was the exact question he hoped she wouldn't ask.

"Anywhere from two to ten days." He mumbled the last part.

"TEN DAYS?" She almost fell off her chair, "you know that's a big jump from two, right?"

"It's all speculation, Veronica, and it's part of the job. I warned you when I left that this might happen."

But, they had been so close. She had practically seen the finish line when it had been yanked out from under her. She nodded, sighing and then settled into a light smile.

"Well, it'll give you just that much more time to prepare for what you're coming home to." She wiggled her eyebrows at him and he laughed,

"Are you propositioning me over Skype, Mars?"

"Absolutely, Lieutenant."

He regarded her warmly, "I can't wait."

Logan looked drained, it was easy to forget what he was off doing when it was just words on the screen, but it became harder when the evidence of it was so clear in his features. They were silent for a beat, taking in each other's presence. So, they wouldn't be reunited for a few more days; they'd made it this far, they could do a possible ten more. She grimaced at the thought.

"I hate to do this to you, but there's a pretty long line for the computers." He said finally, he clearly didn't want to go, but Veronica knew it was selfish of her to demand more time. There were plenty of girlfriends, spouses, and children, waiting to hear from their loved ones, it comforted her in some twisted way that she wasn't the only one who would be getting bad news tonight. There was an odd sense of comradery with these strangers that was foreign to her.

She always stumbled when it came to saying her goodbyes to him though, there was nothing she could say that would ever correctly describe the way she felt, and she hoped Logan knew that. She finally decided on something safe and neutral:

"Well, keep me posted as best you can." Just because he wasn't getting shot at, didn't mean she wouldn't worry, didn't mean some part of her wouldn't always be on alert, checking her email or keeping her Skype profile on at all times. Storms were just as dangerous, even if you were on land.

Logan nodded, "Of course." giving her one final smile before disconnecting.

She closed her laptop, taking the few steps from her desk to the foot of her bed where she had dumped her bag earlier. From the depths of her purse, she gingerly retrieved Casey's file, before dropping the contents on her mattress. She moved to sit, surrounding herself with the possible evidence. The picture of Jessie and Casey at the center.

She had ten days.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

After the call disconnected with Logan, Veronica had been in a feeding frenzy, so to speak, of information. Jessie had provided her with the basics, at best, and after spending a few hours combing through pages of possibly threatening ex-boyfriends, phone records, school reports and a rather unimpressive credit history, she stumbled out to the kitchen, frustrated.

 

Keith was perched on a stool at the island, three files opened in front of him and a bowl of cereal growing mushy. He looked up, briefly, eyeing her affectionately.

 

“I knew I had a daughter somewhere,” he took a big spoonful of mushy goop, lifting it to his mouth before pointing the, now empty, spoon at her, “I hear the best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep.”

 

Veronica mocked laughter, moving past him to the fridge. She glanced inside, eyes finally settling on a large carton of juice. She straightened setting it on the counter while she retrieved a cup from the cupboard above.

 

“And cut back on my raging night-life? Please.”

 

Her father chuckled, and she could hear the light rustle of pages as he continued reading. She took a long drink from her glass, turning, so she could face Keith; who was engrossed once more in his work.

 

“Good read?” She stepped closer, craning her neck in hopes to get a better look. He scooped up the papers, shoving them into their respective folders. It was obvious by his movements he was trying to appear relaxed, that what he was working on was no big deal. She wasn’t fooled.

 

_Nice try, Dad._

 

“Ya know, it’s no Stephen King, but, what can I say, I didn’t have very high hopes going in.”

 

“Keeping your expectations low, an admirable quality.”

 

There was that smile, the one she’d grown accustomed to over the years, warm and inviting, but not quite reaching his eyes. A soft silence enveloped their spotty conversation, and for a moment she could hear the television on in the living room.

 

_Do we ever turn tv off in this house?_

 

He turned his attention to his otherwise neglected cornflakes, as she took careful sips from her glass, she took a deep breath, earning her a sideways glance,

 

“So, it’s looking like Logan will be  _away_ for a bit longer.”

 

His demeanor softened, his eyes sympathetic as he moved to sit up straighter. To better gauge her feelings.

 

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”

 

It was no secret that Keith Mars was not Logan Echolls biggest fan, but there was no question he meant it. In the past their relationship had been heated, at best, but Logan was no longer that angry teenage boy, and not even Keith could deny that. At first, when Logan had shipped out, there had been more than one conversation about New York and Piz, but throughout Logan’s deployment, he had softened to the idea of Veronica dating a naval officer. She accredited this mostly to the strict Navy regulations and the large amount of distance and ocean between them.  _Ten more days,_  she inwardly groaned.

 

_No pining, you’re on a timeline._

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Veronica snorted indignantly, brushing him off with a flick of her wrist.

 

“While I would love to talk boys, maybe fit in a sex talk refresher?” He made a point of shuddering at the word sex, “that’s not why I brought this all up.”

 

She traced the rim of her glass with a tiny finger, before setting it down, taking the seat in front of him. They hadn’t really spoken since before she’d left earlier that morning for the office, between her impromptu stake-out at the Baxter’s and his various physical therapy appointments, they’d barely missed each other all day. When he’d finally stumbled in, she’d been talking with Logan.

 

_Keep it light, keep it cool, Mars._

 

“Jessie Cole came by this morning, before my appointment with Mrs. Jones.”

 

His return glance was more of general curiosity than shock; he remained quiet though, waiting for her to continue.

 

“She wants us to look into her sister’s case, something about the sheriff being an idiot.” His forehead wrinkled and he shrugged,  

  
“Well, she’s not exactly wrong. What did you tell her?”

 

There must’ve been something in her expression that tipped him off, because his next words came out in the form of a long exasperated groan. His fingers rising to rub over his forehead and eyes.

 

“Veronica.”

 

She raised her hands in playful defense, “I didn’t tell her no, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

 

But, it hadn’t been a yes either. In fact, she believed her exact words had been  _‘Go home, Jessie.’_   

 

“What I’m saying is, now that I have all this free time, maybe you’d want to tag team on this one? Ya know partners in crime?” As she’d been pouring through Jessie notes, her thoughts kept returning to her father, to his crash, to his insistence on returning to cases. Casey’s death seemed like a perfect, dip your toes in the pool kind of instance. He’d be able to do what he loved, and she’d be able to keep an eye on him. He shook his head in understanding, laughing lightly. He took a big spoonful of goop into his mouth, talking around it.

 

“While playing sidekick to my daughter sounds fun, I’ve already got a few cases here,” he tapped a hand on the counter and the folders beside him, “plus I look horrible in spandex.”

 

She inwardly cringed at his innate ability to always see through to her ulterior motives. But, she could read him just as easily as he read her; she suppressed a shudder as the icy realization sunk in, a wave of panic following suit.

 

_Please, Dad. Please, no._

 

“Mac didn’t mention any new cases.” There was still a chance that this was an off the books favor, she reminded herself hastily, or maybe he’d been contacted separately.

 

“She wouldn’t, it’s more of a side project.” And that was it, that was all she needed to hear to know that he was investigating the crash, Sack’s murder, and the attempt on his life. She instantly felt sick, if he’d been trying to shut her up, he’d done a damn good job.

 

“But, if you get stuck feel free to ask for help.” He winked at her, standing stiffly from the bar stool; shuffling to the sink to wash out his bowl.

 

“Dad.” If there was anything to say, the words never found her. She just watched him in silence as he gathered up his things and ambled off to bed. Kissing her softly on the crest of her head, telling her to try and get some sleep, before he disappeared from the kitchen.

 

And once more she was alone, the distant hum of the television, her only company. She knew it was a long shot, having him agree to ride passenger side for a case, but she had to try.

_If I’m right and Dad’s investigating the crash, things will only get worse from here._

 

She winced, the fear that the alleged attacker was still out there, planning their next move and that her father was just willingly walking into the lion’s den was not a new one and more often than not kept her awake at night. She knew from the moment he was released at the hospital that he wouldn’t be able to stay away, but some part of her had hoped. It was hypocritical and it was selfish, but she had never claimed to not being either of those things.

 

She rubbed her temple with tired fingers. The rest of her movements were sluggish as she placed her glass in the sink and made her way to the front room to turn off the television.  

 

_Our electric bill has got to be through the roof._

 

The set was tuned to the same channel as before, except for now, in the place of the peppy overdone reporter from that morning, there was an older man with weary deep set eyes; his mannerisms suggesting he most definitely would rather be elsewhere. She listened absently as he droned on about the President’s most recent speech, and how in debt the country was as she dug around the coffee table, and then couch cushions, in search of the remote. Veronica had all but abandoned the fight, settling to push the tiny black button on the side of the screen when, like the morning before, her interest was piqued.

 

_Now over to Jim with the latest update on the Casey Cole homicide._

 

She took a step back watching as the broadcast cut to a younger man looking more like a Ken doll, than a field reporter. The clip was from earlier that afternoon, hazy sunlight peeking over the courthouse in the background. People, mostly reporters, crowded around an empty pulpit.  

 

 _“Well_ _,_ _Frank, I’m outside the Balboa County Courthouse, where we are about to hear from Sheriff Dan Lamb about the recent murder of local college student Casey Cole and the disappearance of seven year old Adrian Baxter.”_ The footage cut to Lamb, flipping his hair as he leaned down to address the crowd, eyes gleaming at the attention and the flash of cameras.

 

 _Don’t look too happy there Lamb, people might think you’re enjoying this._  

 

 _“At around six o’clock this morning Casey Cole was found in her employer's home with a gunshot wound to her left temple and several cracked ribs. EMT’s pronounced her dead on the scene, time of death being estimated around two or three o’clock AM. At this time_ _,_ _we are considering the possible cause a home invasion gone wrong.”_

 

She shouldn’t have been shocked, not at that point, not after the Sheriff’s Department proved time and time again their extreme incompetence, but Veronica’s jaw fell slack anyways, and it was evident by the eruption of sound and camera’s from the audience that she was not the only one taken aback.

 

 _“According to reports there are two boys,”_ A female reporter asked off screen, “ _One found in the home, and one missing. What is your reasoning?”_

 

In their brief slightly one-sided conversation earlier that morning, Jessie had mentioned, off-handedly that there was more than one child under Casey’s care, and she’d be lying if it hadn’t sent her mind reeling with questions. More cameras flashed, and Lamb held up a hand trying to calm the crowd.

 

_Ever the Saint, Lamb. Ever the saint._

 

“ _Alexei Baxter was found early this morning by his mother in his crib shortly after the 911 call was made. Adrian Baxter’s location is still unknown. While this could be a kidnapping, a ransom has not yet been posted, all evidence stands to reason that he is, like his brother, alive and well. We have not ruled out the possibility that Adrian Baxter left the home of his own accord.”_  If the scene outside the courthouse wasn’t chaotic before, it definitely was now, reporters were yelling over one another, flashing cameras lighting up Lamb’s face, as he greedily took it all in. Veronica could’ve sworn she saw a hint of a smile on his lips, but it was there and gone before she could be sure.

 

_“Search parties are being formed through the department as we speak and if anyone has seen him, we ask you to please call in to the department hotline.”_

 

_“Sheriff, what does Casey Cole’s family have to say about the possible ‘robbery gone wrong’ theory?”_

 

Lamb was silent for a moment, in faux contemplation, causing Veronica’s eyes to roll.

 

_“They know the threats of the neighborhood, and with the rise of gang activity in the last year, well it was no stretch to believe. The Cole family has been compliant up to this point, and has expressed their appreciation and cooperation with the Department.”_

 

Veronica actually laughed, before leaning over and finally pressing the tiny button, the screen fading to black. She returned to her now dark bedroom, sitting on the edge of her bed, she leaned forward picking up Jessie’s note. The soft yellow glow from the hall providing the only light,  

 

_‘I’m not going to leave this alone, I can’t.’_

 

That didn’t exactly scream compliance to her, and as far as she could tell the girl who’d been waiting on her doorstep all morning believed in the Sheriff’s “robbery gone wrong” theory as much Veronica did. Lazily, she brushed the papers and notes that crowded her mattress to the unused side, untucking the comforter just enough to slip inside, her heavy head settling down into her pillow.

 

Despite the persistence of her eyelids, her mind buzzed. Was Casey the target, or was she just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why take one brother and leave the other? It was clear there was more at work here than a simple ‘home invasion gone wrong’ but, then again, it was too early to tell. She’d have to poke around the house and family before she ruled anything out. She made a mental note of having Mac get the official police report in the morning, maybe even the crime scene photos. She, of all people, knew that the line between actual investigative work and Lamb’s posturing for the camera was incredibly thin. But, she was even more interested with the aforementioned “compliance”, “cooperation” and even more disturbing “appreciation” that Lamb had been going on about. Sure, it could just be his ego talking, but Jessie had mentioned her mother not wanting outside help. As her eyes grew heavier, and eventually closed, a plan formed in the background of her mind.

 

\----------------

 

Jessie Cole looked into the mirror, fingers rising to clear some of the smudged make-up out from underneath her eyes. She’d managed to keep her head most of the day, doing her best to not think of the constant tightness in her chest, but she’d been forced to leave the room during the broadcast of Casey’s press conference; it was too much. They had opted out earlier that afternoon to attending the actual thing, and she’d never been more grateful for her mother’s shut-in tendencies, but running could only numb the pain for a little while.

 

 _“Having a twin is like being born with a built in best friend”_  that’s what their parents had always said when she and Casey would get into one of their many spats. Best friends? It was a comical notion. They were black and white, oil and water, and occasionally fire and gasoline. When they’d entered second grade, Casey had ignored Jessie’s existence completely, denying the fact that they shared a last name, birthday and face. Looking back at it, she got a good laugh, but at seven it’d been heartbreaking. She remembered the long drives with her father, where she would cry and complain about how great it would’ve been if it was just  _her._  At this point, she’d give anything to take it back.

 

Jessie pushed her dark hair from her face, twirling it around in her fingers before clipping it up onto the top of her head. Turning on the sink in front of her, she cupped water to her face, relishing in the coolness on her skin. Her mind drifted back to her last conversation with Casey. The baby had been sick, an ear infection or something, and was driving her up the wall. For fifteen minutes she complained and cracked jokes,

 

_“Nannying is the best form of birth control, I swear. I never want to have sex again.”_

 

She had responded with a chuckle,  _“I give it a week.”_ and that was it.

 

Jessie looked into the mirror, her skin still dripping from the water. It was herface looking back at her, her own eyes, just a little greener than Casey’s, her hair messy and unruly, her hands grasping the sides of the counter in front of her, but in a way it was like looking at a ghost. She shuddered.

 

Over the years their relationship, while still strained at times, had been pleasant. They had little to nothing in common, except for the pain. It’d taken them five years to get to the point where they could spend an afternoon laughing, five years and the loss of the most important man in their life.

 

It was days like this when she missed him. When she yearned for that goofy grin, and those big flannel shirts he used to wear, even more than usual.

 

It was by innocent means that she found herself down the hall quietly digging through her mother’s closet and the unpacked boxes that had ‘Dave’ scribbled on the side, desperate for a piece of him to hold on to. Finally, after three boxes she found it, big and red with green stitching. She lifted the flannel with the intention of slipping it on when four pieces of paper, previously hidden within the folds, floated delicately to the ground at her feet. She bent forward slowly to scoop them up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for right now, currently working on chapter four as we speak (it's turning out to be a lot longer than I originally anticipated) I'd love to hear what you think so far though!!!


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